


A Later Date

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Assumed Relationship, Confessions, F/M, Matchmaking, Spock dropping bombs, and we love him for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Spock regarded him, a curious glint in his eyes. "How do you distinguish between a joke and a genuine expression of romantic interest?"Chris blinked. "You've been here less than a day," he said, faint.Spock tilted his head in that way that meantirrelevant. "That is factually correct.""You've been hereless than a dayand you've already got peoplehittingon you?"
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 66
Kudos: 133





	A Later Date

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place immediately after 2.08 "If Memory Serves."

Chris was on his way to the mess hall for lunch when he spotted Spock just beyond the entrance, headed the other way, clearly having finished his meal. "Spock," he called, skirting past crew members to catch up. 

Spock turned, the picture of calm, even here, post-mental breakdown, mid-mutiny, and on an entirely new ship. His resilience was truly remarkable. Spock inclined his head as Chris approached. "Captain."

Chris nodded him toward an out-of-the-way alcove, Spock falling in with him automatically. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to settle you in last night."

"Informing Cornwell of your disobedience took priority. No apology is required," Spock said, turning to face him, the planet outside the window casting him in golden light. 

"Still. You've been through a lot and I wanted to check in. How you holding up?"

"I remain unmoored," Spock said in that devastatingly direct way he had. "But I am much improved since visiting Talos."

"Never thought I'd hear that one," Chris said, shaking his head. But he shot Spock a reassuring look. "We _will_ figure this out. Together."

"Yes, sir." Spock nodded, firm. 

Chris offered a small smile, taking Spock in, so relieved to have him here, to have him _safe_. He was still a little thrown by the beard, but it was growing on him. "I'm glad you're with us now. I was worried about you. You'll let me know if you need anything?"

"Thank you, sir. For the moment, I have all that I require. The crew has been...most welcoming."

Chris sensed something in that pause. "Oh?"

"Yes. In fact, I wondered if I might seek your counsel on the same."

He made a little go-ahead gesture. "Always. What's up?"

Spock regarded him, a curious glint in his eyes. "How do you distinguish between a joke and a genuine expression of romantic interest?" 

Chris blinked. "You've been here less than a day," he said, faint. 

Spock tilted his head in that way that meant _irrelevant_. "That is factually correct."

"You've been here _less than a day_ and you've already got people _hitting_ on you?" he asked, incredulity bleeding all over his tone. "Oh, god, it's not Specialists Wells or Larani, is it? If it is, I have some news for you."

"No, Specialist Wells was more interested in your romantic history," Spock said, dry. 

"Of _course_ she was," Chris muttered. 

"I informed her that your insistence on discretion would exclude her from any sort of consideration. Even aside from present circumstances."

He frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"It was immediately apparent that Specialist Wells is not one to keep her own counsel, which would negate any romantic interest on your part, even if you did pursue relationships with those so many years your junior."

"No—I mean, yes, boy, do you have _her_ number—but what do you mean by 'present circumstances?'"

Spock looked at him obviously. "You're a serial monogamist. You wouldn't engage in multiple relationships at a time."

Chris shook his head. Why did it feel like they were having two different conversations? "Also true, but irrelevant?"

"I dare say not to Michael," Spock shot back. 

Chris stilled even as his heart _leapt_. "...what?"

Spock took on an air of reassurance: "Given the specialist's questions, my presumption is that your relationship is not public knowledge, so I did not speak of it." 

Rather than reassured, all Chris felt was his heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears, his gut tightening oddly. "My _relationship_?" 

"Yes. I understand that you might feel awkward discussing it, given my rift with Michael, but I am pleased for you, sir. You deserve companionship. And your martyr complex is highly compatible with Michael's, though I should warn you that I will be attempting to break her of the same."

"I am so very lost right now," Chris muttered, head abuzz with too many things at once. Spock assumed that he and Michael were—Chris tamped down on the flush that threatened at the idea. Just because he'd thought about—but that wasn't the point. "You think Michael and I are dating?"

"It was immediately apparent. I have not seen my sister in years, but I am expert at reading her microexpressions. And yours," he added, like an afterthought. "Since you value such things, I wish you to know that I approve."

That cut through the din in his head, Chris unexpectedly touched at Spock's approval. "That's...very generous, Spock, but you're off base here."

Spock looked at him, dubious. "You will not offend my delicate sensibilities. I am aware that Michael has relationships. It would be illogical to protest such things."

"Right, but Michael and I aren't...together." His voice hitched on the last, his gut still churning at being confronted with this—the attraction he always ignored, the possibility he never let himself contemplate. That Spock had waltzed on board, taken one look at them, and figured it out...Chris shied away from the idea that he was so transparent. 

Then a worse thought occurred: did Michael see through him, too? 

Spock eyed Chris, even, but still somehow communicating _unimpressed_. "Perhaps I should seek Nhan's counsel instead."

Which reminded Chris of just how this had all started. "No need to be insulting. Who hit on you, anyway?"

"In the course of our first conversation, Ensign Tilly told me that anytime I'd like to 'have a go' I should 'hit her up.' It was both impressively idiomatic and remarkably nonspecific. There was also a tone with which I am unfamiliar."

Chris snorted, part of him wishing he could witness _that_ conversation, another part marveling at Tilly's approach. "I hate to say it, but the answer to your question is it was probably both a joke _and_ a genuine expression of interest." Off Spock's raised eyebrow, he continued: "It sounds like she was offering plausible deniability. If you expressed interest you could treat it as mutual, but if not, you could both laugh it off."

Something tensed around Spock's eyes. "People usually offer more clarity."

"Well, you've been on a five-year mission where your crew knows you. The _Discovery_ , that's a whole new ballgame."

Spock studied him, considering, saying nothing. 

Chris felt his eyes widen as surprise swept him, overshadowing the discomfort at thoughts of Michael. "Are you...interested?"

Spock wiped his expression, cocking his head. "I must consider. Thank you, Captain. This has been most helpful." 

With a final nod, Spock was off, moving steadily down the hall. 

Chris stared after him, Spock's words echoing. His relationship. Companionship. Microexpressions. 

Jesus. 

***

Michael lingered at her chair after the evening briefing in that way she did when she wanted to talk. Chris shot her a welcoming look from his own seat, getting a tiny smile in return, his mind instantly scattering, thoroughly distracted. She wore lighter makeup today, the nude look she favored sometimes, her lips shiny and inviting in the glow cast from the planet outside; suddenly all he wanted was to pull her close and taste that smile, kiss her until she smiled wider, just for him. 

He shut those thoughts down, as always, standing and moving to his desk. 

But as the others filed out into the turbolift, Chris considered. He'd spent the rest of his day mentally reviewing his approach to Michael—which generally fell into the category of _stop_ —but given how Spock had so thoroughly called him out for it, clearly that wasn't working. Coupled with Spock's approach to communication—tending toward bracing honesty—Chris knew the topic would likely be brought to light at some point. 

He needed to decide what to do about that. 

But there was another thing, too. Spock had mentioned _Michael's_ microexpressions. He'd read her, too. And he'd still come to the conclusion that they were together. 

It sparked a far-too-tempting flare of hope within Chris. One he was trying—and failing—to ignore. 

He set his PADD down on his desk, turning to face Michael once everyone had gone, leaning back against the desk. He didn't want to sit behind it like this was some official meeting. So he slouched, quirking a smile at Michael, wordlessly inviting whatever she wanted to discuss.

Her lips curled again as she moved around the conference table, though the flare of warmth dissipated as her gaze went inward. She stopped halfway between the conference table and his desk, the light from the window highlighting her sudden uncertainty. "I hear you were talking to Spock at lunch," Michael said, tone almost tentative, like she was hoping he'd broach some topic himself. 

Something _pulsed_ in Chris, but no, they had all been on duty since he'd spoken to Spock. It was highly unlikely that Spock could have started taunting her about their supposed relationship. 

Which, if he was _worrying_ about it...

"I caught him outside of the mess, yeah," he said, light. 

"How is he?" she asked, like she didn't want to have to ask someone else, but couldn't not. 

Chris _ached_ for the glimpse of that vulnerability, wanting to shield her so nothing could ever hurt. But he knew he couldn't, and even if he could, it wasn't his place. So he kept it light, kind: "Well, he dropped a couple bombs while simultaneously insulting my intelligence and calling out my shit, so pretty classic Spock." 

Michael's lips quirked. She huffed out an amused breath, her energy lightening a little. "That does sound like Spock."

"I gather he took a different approach with you?" Chris asked, allowing only a trace of sympathy into his voice. 

Michael's smile came out more like a wince. "That he did."

"Sorry."

Michael tipped her head toward him, a kind of nonverbal appreciation. "His life is the most important thing. I just wondered how he seemed to those who know him."

"You know him," Chris offered. 

"In a certain context. You're free from our conflict, so I figured he might be different with you. And I was right." She looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her. 

"He does respect you, Michael," Chris said, leaning forward to catch her gaze. 

"'He said you were smart,'" Michael said, echoing Chris' words from the first time they met. The fact that she remembered sent a rush of pleasure through him. 

But then he chastised himself. Of _course_ she remembered. He'd been talking about her brother, whom she hadn't seen in years. 

Chris just nodded to her. "He did. Spock doesn't talk about his personal life much, but he did mention you. And your once-in-a-generation mind."

Michael's eyes widened. "He did not say that."

Chris flashed her a grin. "He might as well have. It's _true_."

Her expression melted into something almost... _pleased_ before she shook it off and shot him a mischievous look. "That a technical term?"

"Damn right. I should know, I've put it in enough reports."

An almost embarrassed air came over her, Michael flicking her eyes away. "That's, uh, generous of you to say, sir."

"Accurate, more like."

Michael's gaze flew back to his, like she had no idea what to say to that. Finally, she just shook her head once and smiled a little. "I should—" She gestured toward the door, suddenly awkward.

Chris braced himself and just jumped in. "Before you do—" Michael stilled, watching him attentively. "I wanted to advise you of something."

She nodded once, the picture of professionalism. "Of course."

Chris' insides clenched at the feeling of freefall, at once both exhilarating and terrifying. He ignored it, donning his captain's mask and forcing himself on: "You know how sometimes other people can see you more clearly than you can see yourself?"

Something worked in Michael's jaw. Finally: "I have experienced that."

"Well, Spock, he uhh, he forced me to look at some stuff I was avoiding," Chris admitted. 

Michael frowned. "Meaning what?"

He sighed, trying to find a way to frame this that didn't make him seem like a lustful superior taking advantage of his subordinates. "You know I hold you in the highest regard, right?"

She blinked, something startled hovering around her eyes. "As I do you," she said, her voice gone careful, but underneath that...warm. 

Affection swept through him, even if he had expected it on some level. He was good at being a captain, they worked well together, this was not a surprise. And yet. It still struck him. "It was just that, for a while. Then at some point it...changed, but I don't think I wanted to reckon with that, so I just let it lie."

Michael shook her head a little, almost unconscious, like she was trying to puzzle that out. 

Chris realized he was going to have to be more explicit. "I don't know when it moved from regard to attraction, but it did, and Spock saw that. Immediately. He never does let me get away with anything." And Chris cursed him for that on a regular basis. 

Michael blinked, once, but she stayed silent. Whether because she was too surprised or too uncomfortable, he couldn't say. 

Chris knew it was unlikely that she would rush into his arms, professing the same, but he couldn't help the small part of him deflated that she _didn't_. 

So he forged ahead, filling the silence: "Given Spock's general approach to things, I wouldn't be surprised if he brought that up with you, so I wanted you to hear it from me first." He took a careful breath. "Obviously they're my feelings and I'm fully capable of being a professional, but I didn't want you to be blindsided."

Michael opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she tried again. "You...want me?" she asked, tentative, like she was checking to make sure she hadn't misunderstood. 

Chris smiled a little. "Yes."

Her brow furrowed. "In what way?"

Now it was Chris' turn to be confused. Wasn't that pretty self-explanatory? "I don't follow."

Michael flared a hand, vaguely toward his desk. "In a hoist-me-up-on-your-desk-and-ravish me way? Or...something else?"

Chris blinked at _that_ image—Michael perched on his desk, gasping out his name as he kissed his way down her body, her thighs wrapped around him. It was so visceral he could _taste_ it. 

He swallowed and shoved those very unhelpful thoughts aside, focusing. What was she asking? "I mean, I wouldn't start there, but I wouldn't rule it out."

Michael stared at him. "Where would you start?"

"Dinner?" he offered, heart fluttering at the total lack of rejection he was sensing from Michael. No, if anything, she seemed _confused_. 

"...oh. You want a relationship. With me," she clarified, like that needed clarifying. 

Chris shrugged. "I mean, yeah. I know lots of folks are more casual about it, but you know. Old-fashioned," he said, gesturing to himself. 

Her lips curled, like that amused her, and it _zinged_ through him, such a tiny thing, but seemingly connected directly to his heart. It _thumped_ in his chest, almost painful. _Almost_. 

She regarded him, marveling a little. "I thought it was wishful thinking," she said, shaking her head at herself, looking off toward the far couch, sightless, like she was staring at something only she could see. 

Chris stared at _her_ , taking in the line of her jaw, the way the light from the planet outside cast her in an amber glow. She was _breathtaking_. He didn't understand how people didn't just stop to stare, all the time. 

"It wasn't."

Michael pulled her eyes back to him...and he blinked in surprise. Her gaze was...warm. Welcoming.

Chris dully watched as she approached, something different in her expression. She dropped her eyes to his hand, resting on his desk, then reached out and covered it with her own, lifting her gaze to his as she squeezed. "We could start with dinner," she offered, hope flitting over her face. 

He swallowed his suddenly-dry throat and turned his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. His skin tingled where they touched, heart racing, too much _feeling_ pulsing through his body. "Yeah?" he asked, hearing his own breathless uncertainty; he'd _never_ expected this reaction. 

Microexpressions, he suddenly remembered. Spock had said. 

Dimly, annoyance flared through Chris. Did Spock have to be right _all the time_?

But Michael was nodding and smiling a little and Chris' annoyance instantly melted away, forgotten in the light of her burgeoning happiness. He wanted to see this look on her face as much as humanly possible. "Yeah," she said, firmer, like his reaction bolstered hers. Then something wicked glinted in her eyes. "But I do reserve the right to bring up the desk thing again, at a later date."

Chris huffed out a surprised laugh. He used her hand to tug her close, catching her as she swayed against his body, a solid warmth that was both comforting and wildly enticing. "So reserved," he murmured, smiling as he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. 

Michael tilted her face up, kissing him back, lips moving against his, sending sparks sliding down his spine. What started slow quickly heated up, Michael nipping at his lips, brushing her tongue into his open mouth, Chris groaning at the taste of her. 

He'd wanted to taste her. He didn't think he'd _get_ to. 

Michael responded with an answering moan, _crushing_ their mouths together, fierce. She kissed him like she was desperate for it, heady and yearning. Then she pulled away, eyes gleaming, panting a little. 

Chris stared at her mouth, most of her lip gloss gone, kissed away. It was a good look for her.

"Does it have to be at a later date?" Michael asked, sly. 

Chris laughed again and kissed her, helpless not to, reveling in the press of their mouths, Michael looping her arm around his neck. He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, enjoying the feeling of her body against his. "I can compromise."

Michael grinned and leaned up for his mouth. 

***  
***

"There you are!" Sylvia called, Spock finally appearing in the science lab, like, _ages_ later than they agreed. He remained as stoic as he always seemed to be, _of course_. "So? What happened?"

Spock considered her, not reacting. "I conveyed the information we discussed," he said, like this should be obvious. 

Sylvia made a little forward gesture, Spock's eyes dropping to track the motion. "But what did he _say_?" she pressed. God, _details_. Why were men so _bad_ at details? Like a complete play-by-play was so hard. 

Spock's eyes flicked back to hers. "The captain protested that he and Michael aren't dating, though he obviously wishes otherwise."

Sylvia wrung her hands, thinking furiously. "But is it _enough_?" she muttered, starting to pace. 

Spock's eyes tracked her movements, studying her like she was some novel creature. "The captain is defined by his honor. He will feel duty-bound to inform Michael of his affections before I can."

Sylvia made an uncertain noise, still pacing. "Maybe I should say something to her."

Spock tilted his head. "You do not trust my word."

She looked at him again. "I know everyone thinks you're the bee's knees or whatever—you're, like, the hot little black dress of Starfleet, everybody's gotta have one—but you're also all Vulcan and this is emotional and _what_?"

Spock eyed her in that strange way, like he had when they'd talked the first time. "You have approvingly mentioned my appearance multiple times."

She made an appreciative noise, low in her throat. "I mean, have you looked in a mirror because _hello_. But also, that's so not the point."

"You realize I cannot follow a significant portion of what you say."

Sylvia nodded. "Yeah, it's totes part of my charm."

Spock tilted his head again. "Fascinating."

"The point," she emphasized, pointing at him, Spock's eyes dropping to her hand again. "Is effectiveness."

"It is enough," Spock said, meeting her gaze, unwavering. 

Sylvia just stared at him. "That's it? That's all you got?" When he didn't respond, she made a frustrated noise. "You're a terrible matchmaker."

His eyes warmed, the closest she'd seen to an actual expression on his face. "I am a superlative matchmaker, as you shall soon see."

Sylvia blinked, surprise washing over her. But even as she opened her mouth to ask, "Wait, are we _just_ talking about—" he had already turned and walked out. 

"—Michael and Pike?" she finished, a little breathless, thoroughly distracted by his retreating form. Why had Michael never mentioned her brother was so _hot_?

Clearly Michael was holding out on her. Sylvia briefly wondered if she'd ever told Michael you didn't hide hot brothers...but whatever, that didn't matter now. 

What mattered now was finding Michael, getting all the Pike details, and ya know, maybe some tips on a certain touch-telepath who totally needed some touching. 

Sylvia grinned at the thought. A+ plan, if she did say so herself, and right on the heels of another A+ plan. She was on a roll. 

And it was only gonna get more fun from here. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


End file.
